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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099976">Always Got Your Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorfourteen/pseuds/doctorfourteen'>doctorfourteen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Rookie (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Kidnapping, PTSD, Survival, chenford, hurt/ comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:42:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorfourteen/pseuds/doctorfourteen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quiet and tender moments between Tim and Lucy as she learns to adjust to the way she now sees the world, becoming a survivor. Tim would do anything to take away her pain. He doesn't realise she has his number saved already.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Bradford &amp; Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Cover Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Lol not beta-read sorry, I don't have enough friends who share my hyper-fixations &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Lucy was released from the hospital after her kidnapping, Bradford had quickly pulled rank on both Nolan and West when they offered to drive her home, even despite her own protestation that she could call and Uber or make her own way back; she wasn’t incapacitated in any way. Tim was less than subtle when he reminded the pair of his years of experience in comparison to theirs and that if anyone was going to make sure she made it home safely then he was pretty damn sure it was going to be him.</p><p> </p><p>He already had a plan, sure forensics had already been to her place while she was missing and turned it over from pillar to post for some lead in her kidnapping; but Tim was going to make doubly sure that there wasn’t anything that had been missed by some rookie jobsworth detective trying to catch an early finish from shift. He wanted to check for any bugs, devices or threats to Lucy’s safety. The memory of the previous owner was still bright in his mind, how Lucy had been telling him all about the amazing bargain she’d struck up in exchange for scrubbing the bloodstain from the rug and with all that in mind, he was going to check the locks and make sure the door was something that even he’d struggle to kick down.</p><p> </p><p>Bradford could gladly lock Chen in a custody cell and keep her there for her own safety, in his job he had been exposed to some exceptionally unpleasant people and Lucy’s kidnapper Caleb and his associate Rosalind had really taken the trophy for the pair of most sadistic and cruel people he’d come across, but Chen could handle herself. She knew she could handle herself too, she’d always had a stubborn self-assurance and self-belief that maybe came from growing up in a household of psychologists, teaching all their mumbo-jumbo about self-esteem but damn, she was one hell of a fighter and one of the best rookies he’d ever laid eyes on.</p><p> </p><p>“Right, my car’s out front by the ambulance bay. Let’s get you home. You got your pain meds and antibiotics and all that stuff?” Tim asked as she shuffled her feet into her shoes awkwardly, her fractured ribs still aching in protest regardless of how she ignored them. Bust ribs she could manage; it was the tattoo that made her want to throw up. Bradford saw a flash of something cross her eyes and his brow scrunched slightly, trying to read her. She still had some kind of dazed expression to her, even when she looked up at him with that coy smile and he wondered if the shock had even really set in just yet.</p><p> </p><p>“You parked in the ambulance bay? They’re for emergencies only.” She retorted with a breathy chuckle of frustration. A hand rose to her ribs, shielding herself from the pain as her diaphragm shifted beneath cracked ribs.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a cop and this is an emergency.” His lips shifted into a smirk as his eyes glanced across her forearms, seeing the bandages at her wrists that covered the healing wounds where she’d fought so hard against agonisingly tight binds to escape. Where whatever material the sadist had bound her with had bitten into her skin and torn, bruised and chafed her skin as she’d fought against him, fought to escape and fought to survive.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>She really was a fighter. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Everything about her bore wounds and scars of her survival and how she’d clung onto her life for long enough for him to get to her. She was the smartest nuisance he’d had for a rookie, more than worth the 5% pay bump to ride shotgun with. He’d seen people tied up before, or saved them after they’d been tortured and he’d listened patiently as they’d recalled stories of a fight for survival while Chen had scrawled notes in her notepad for the case; but these wounds seemed particularly raw and painful because they were on <em>her </em>body and no one else’s. He could take a hundred or a thousand knives or bullets or shards of broken glass and it still couldn’t hurt as much as seeing these wounds on her.</p><p> </p><p>“How is this an emergency?” She asked, finally pushing herself up from the hospital bed to her feet, slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you questioning me again, Officer Chen?” He asked, a sincere tone. “I am your superior officer and I’m taking you home. I’ve completed a thorough, dynamic risk assessment but who’s to say the moment we step out of this bedroom there won’t be some crazy person come taking a jump at you because you locked up his brother 3 months ago? For all the time you’ve spent in hospital already, it’ll all be worthless because you’ll be back to square one when someone jabs a shiv between your ribs because you’re unarmed and in plain clothes on your own patch. Bad guys don’t like people like us and they tend to remember who we are, just as much as we remember the sickest of them and just because you’re off duty does not mean they won’t take the first chance to make good on some revenge. So yes, Officer Chen, this is an emergency.”</p><p> </p><p>She looked at him, straight in his eyes as he rolled off his imagined worse case scenario. She had a deer in the headlights kind of look about her, even as she conceded and nodded in agreement with him. “Uh, right, yeah. You’re right. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. You’re right.” </p><p> </p><p>They’d barely talked about what had happened to her, he’d overheard some of the minor details of the case and for some part he’d managed to fill in the blanks with what he’d seen when they’d recovered her from her gravesite and brought her to the sanctuary of the hospital. He’d not made an effort to ask her either, he knew the detectives would be busy building a case to present the DA and the last thing she needed was to recall the details for a second time. Part of him was desperate to know, he wanted to understand what that sick bastard, Caleb, had done to her and just the thought alone of him made his blood curdle, boil and blister his veins. Part of him never wanted to imagine what she’d survived. Bradford understood that Caleb was some sort of mentee of Rosalind and if her pattern of torture was anything to go by—it made Tim shudder visibly. He wished the guy wasn’t discretely packed away in a morgue somewhere; Tim could kill him over and over again for what he’d done to her.</p><p> </p><p>Lucy wore her heart on her sleeves and even if he said he didn’t want to hear about it, or didn’t want her mind to wander while she was working, he still listened more than he was letting on to whatever was racing through her mind, so right now when she was so silent aside from a few words on other subjects that others would tease from her, it was unnerving to say the least.</p><p> </p><p>He led the way through the hospital lobby, not that she didn’t already know the way. He was clearing the pathway for her; even in his plain clothes he still had his concealed carry at his waistband and still walked with a real aura of power and authority. Especially when he was carrying a ginormous pink teddy bear.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, just hold up a minute.” Lucy called ahead to him, his footfall just a few strides ahead of hers but enough to force her to pick up her pace and feel the awkward soreness of the lacerations to her ankles brushing against her jeans.</p><p> </p><p>“You alright?” He replied, halting in his step, turning to face her with an expression of concern.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just, uh, a little to fast for crunchy ribs and stuff.” She explained and he nodded knowingly and apologetically.</p><p> </p><p>“Gotcha. You need a minute?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m okay. Just, uh, you know getting used to using my legs again. I’ve either been running for my life or laid up in a hospital bed, they’re a bit floppy still.” She complained with an awkward smile. He smiled in return, a small nod. She didn’t notice the way he shrunk inwards as she recalled some element of what she’d suffered, he didn’t dare to speak for a moment just in case there was something else that she’d want to say and he’d silence her by throwing her off the mark by saying something unrelated instead. He wanted to be there for his rookie in the only way he really knew how.</p><p> </p><p>“If you start taking much longer, you’re going to need retiring. I think my grandma can move faster than you and she’s had a hip replacement.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gee, thanks.” She scoffed, straightening slightly.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Locks are checked. I changed the chain on your door, it was practically hanging off and one decent kick from even Nolan and that’d be through. No bugs or devices anywhere, this place is about as safe as it can be. I wouldn’t go quite as far as being willing to use this as a safe-house for some scumbag career criminal flipping and selling out their fellow criminals to a jury, but it works.” Tim explained, testing the locks on the door again, swinging the door open and then shut again with an annoying rattle and click.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t have to do any of this, I’ll be fine. I just need to settle down and get some rest. This place is perfectly safe, it suits me fine.” She stated in defence of her home.</p><p> </p><p>“Mm-hm.” He replied, nodding at her as his hand went to his belt, tugging at his pants so they were firmly at his waist. “Right, is your personal gun to hand and loaded?”</p><p> </p><p>“My gun is on my bed-stand and reloaded. I’m fine, Tim.” She reassured him, settling to lean against the arm of her couch. “Jackson will be home soon anyway. It’s not like I’m going to be alone for long.”</p><p> </p><p>“I just want you safe and able to defend yourself, you’re injured right now and I don’t want you to push yourself any harder than you need to. Pushing you is my job and seeing as you’re not at work right now, you don’t need to do any of that.” He explained.</p><p> </p><p>“Lot of good carrying a gun did for me. Tim, I’m fine.” She replied smartly, he felt a pang of guilt and heard the bitterness in her tone as she folded her arms in front of him, trying to hide the sweeping expression of pain cascading across her face as the tattoo scratched against her t-shirt. God she looked tired, even though she’d spent the last 48 hours sleeping on and off in a hospital bed, she looked exhausted and the bandages and scrapes to her face only accentuated that.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you’re fine.” He started, taking a deep breath. “Don’t blame yourself for any of this, Luce. None of this is your fault, the only person to blame is Caleb and he’s 6 foot under and can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.” He explained, kindly.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks. Look, I know you’re trying to make me feel better. But I should’ve known better; I’m a cop and I know what happens to girls at bars who take their eye off the ball. There was something in my gut telling me not to meet him, but I ignored it and decided that I knew better and look what happened. Cops are supposed to have great instincts, listen to their gut and be super-vigilant, but I wasn’t any of those things. I was an idiot and I deserved what I got.” Her eyes were shiny with the sheen of tears that she held back, she didn’t know whether to wipe at her face with the sleeve of her jumper or not. Damn it, she was so tired and she just wanted someone to tell her what to do.</p><p> </p><p>Tim took a step forwards, shortening the gap between them. His voice was soft and caring and his eyes were softened as he spoke. “Hey, look at me. You are a <em>great</em> cop and none of this takes away from that. None of this is about you being a cop and none of this is your fault, what <em>he </em>did to you was wrong, evil and he violated you but he did not change any part of you and the fact you survived and lived just proves how much of a fighter you are. I can’t imagine the hell he put you through and if I could take away all that pain for you, I would. But I can’t take it away— you can’t let yourself spiral down this rabbit hole of what if’s because you can’t change the past.” He exhaled deeply and after a long silence nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” She told him, voice quieter than she tried to muster.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want me to stay until West gets back or—? I can go, if you want?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think I just need to get some rest, Tim. I’m just <em>really</em> tired, my body hurts in ways I didn’t know it could and I just need to sleep in my own bed and have a really warm bath.” God, she didn’t know what she needed. She needed something indiscernible, she needed someone to tell her what she needed but she knew that wasn’t coming and it hung over her with an aching thud pressing at her brow with the promise of an impending headache.</p><p> </p><p>He held fiddled with his jeans pocket, riffling through the contents; his mobile, a pen torch, his car keys until he finally produced a business card. “Here, call me any time. Day or night. Anything you need; I’ll be here straight away.” He explained.</p><p> </p><p>“I already have your number.” She chuckled slightly, finally a small smile breaking out at her lips.</p><p> </p><p>“You have my number?” He asked.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve text me at least five times. You’ve called me when I’m off-duty before.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know I have <em>your </em>number, I just didn’t expect you to have mine.” His expression was incredulous, his arm still extended with the business card.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I’ve saved your number. You’re my TO.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, take the card anyway. In case you forget my number or you’re at a payphone. I don’t know, whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, I appreciate it.” She replied with a warm half-smile. The light of the room cast a dim glow over her and he saw the flushed redness of the scrapes at her face, but beneath it he saw a slightly haunted complexion; it was like someone had gone inside her and turned the light out of her soul and he wanted to beat the man who’d done that. His hand recoiled back to his pocket as she took the business card from him.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll leave you to get some sleep. But call me, anything at all. Even if you want someone to drive past your apartment every two hours to scout for suspicious-looking guys or you want a veggie burger picking up or you just want someone to vent to I’m here and I always will be. You’re gonna get through this, it’s going to be hard as hell but it’s not a fight or a battle, it’s a process and I know you’re tough as nails. Then when you’re ready, we’ll hop back in the shop and get back on the streets because I still have plenty to teach you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gotcha. Thanks for dropping me off, I, uh, really appreciate it. You didn’t have to go out of your way for me so it—,” she hesitated. Her voice had softened, her intonation changed as if her words waivered with the threat of tears. She coughed slightly, clearing her throat. “Mm-hm, it really means a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got your back.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. When the moon hits your eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He sees her at her most vulnerable. He's a man who knows what he wants and when he wants it. Except when he doesn't. Lucy doesn't know what being off-duty means.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’d taken her long enough to convince Jackson that she was fine on her own in their apartment. He had been dubious enough to return to work in the first place, but after enough time he’d recognised that his hovering wasn’t helping anyone. In short, he recognised that Lucy only felt suffocated and trapped by his abundance of precaution and concern for her wellbeing, but only at the point that her temper was short and beginning to fray.</p><p> </p><p>With him out of the way and back to work, Lucy realised just how much she wanted to run away from almost every social interaction, particularly including that of her parents. She was physically and emotionally exhausted and no amount of sleeping seemed to be doing any good. She was constantly on edge and every social interaction she made almost always alluded after the fact of her kidnapping in some way or another, so it had hardly been long before she had decided to veto any of that discussion at all.</p><p> </p><p>She was frustrated. Each ache of a healing rib, or the slowly healing flesh from grazes and cuts from the struggle reminded her bitterly of her mortality, but it was all the more frustrating to watch those wounds heal and slowly vanish while the tattoo on her belly didn’t fade. It felt unfair and each passing thought came with waves of anger and irritation, every other wound and scar had been obtained in the struggle for her life, she could argue the scabbed wounds at her wrists were proof of the fight she had in her and her willingness to live, but the damn tattoo had no real meaning now; she hadn’t died on the date etched into her flesh. It was just a symbol of raw pain, a memory.</p><p> </p><p>With it there was the associated guilt; she was a cop and she had survived after a concerted effort by her colleagues and friends to save her life, but those women before hadn’t been and could it mean that she had some sort of unfair advantage over them? Did it mean that her survival had not been fairly earned in some battle without any rules? The guilt, anger and fear she felt were overwhelming, even as she tried to hold it back it threatened to boil over and spill into every ounce of her being. She felt powerless to stop it.</p><p> </p><p>Lucy was perched on her couch with a cup of coffee pressed between her hands; she was sipping it so slowly that it was starting to grow cold, her mind running away to distant thoughts in between each gulp. She had opened the curtains already, or rather Jackson had done not long before leaving for work that morning, but she found her way over to the window again to cast a glance over the streets of LA with knowing eyes, she’d watched the world go by and watched as a pair of men shouted and swore at one another, a woman clinging at the arms of another as he waved his gun about at the other man, even from here Lucy could see that she was begging the man to put the gun down.</p><p> </p><p><em>Damn it</em>. Lucy mumbled into the cup of coffee. She cast it aside on a shelf of her bookcase, picking up her <em>police</em>badge and gun, tucking it into the waist of her jeans and covering it with her sweater. She began making her way downstairs, she tucked stray hairs behind her ear as she headed down the staircase with an air of nonchalance, halfway lost in her thoughts with every time as her mind alluded to different memories, of work, of her kidnapping and of her parents disapproval in her career choice. Her mind was positively flooded with enough to make the average person break, but nonetheless she persevered.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, do you want to tell me what’s going on here?” She asked, shifting her footing slightly, the sunlight blinding her in her first position, so she could grab a better view.</p><p> </p><p>“None of your business, little lady.” The man with the gun scoffed, he was far taller than Chen and she could imagine that he’d be quick to run also. He had an ominous air about him; somehow he exuded power and street-knowledge. Lucy’s dominant hand rested above the handle of her gun tucked in her pants.</p><p> </p><p>“Steve, put the gun down, let’s just talk. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The woman begged, tears were streaming down her face, her nose was bloody and she looked to have some kind of bruise forming just beneath her eye at her cheekbone.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Police Officer Chen, I’m with the LAPD.” She explained, drawing her weapon from the belt of her jeans, flashing her badge, pointing it at the guy waving his weapon around. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe I can help. I’ve already called for back-up.” She lied.</p><p> </p><p>“This guy, he’s been sleeping with my wife. My own damn wife!” He exclaimed. The woman sobbed woefully. She was messily dressed; she’d clearly dressed in a hurry.</p><p> </p><p>“Alan, calm down, please.” She begged, holding onto his arm, trying to pull him away. “Please, Officer, he doesn’t mean any of this he’s just… he’s just lost his job and he’s angry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, lost his job. Can’t provide for his wife; gets drunk and beats her like she means nothing when she’s about the only thing he has left. He’s a real low-life.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy trained her gun on Alan, shifting in her stance again to keep her eyes on him. He was the only one toting a gun right now; if she would have to take on anyone for public safety, it would be the guy with the gun. She wasn’t wearing anything bulletproof. This could go south pretty darn quickly and she knew that and she hesitated, wishing that she had called for backup now or even just ignored the scene on the street beneath her. But that wasn’t like her. She cursed herself inwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry about your job, Sir. It sounds like you’ve already lost quite a lot, but I don’t think this is the way forwards. Your wife isn’t yours; you can’t just claim her as your own. I think you’ve had a really tough time lately, but this isn’t the way to go about things. Why don’t you just drop the gun and we can have a proper talk?” She offered, her words clear and concise. She felt more alive and in the moment than she had all week since she’d had to fight for her life. Doing her job just felt right.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you know about losing anything? You don’t look a day over 20.” The man scoffed.</p><p> </p><p>“Alan, please!” The wife exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know.” Lucy began. “I’ve been through some stuff recently; I’ve been hurting too, but even still I can’t imagine how you’re feeling and I really want to help you. So why don’t you put the weapon down and just talk to me? We can talk about anything you want.” She offered, empathetically. “Just put your weapon on the ground.”</p><p> </p><p>She saw the man hesitate, her eyes narrowed slightly and she began to consider where she was going to have to try to place her shot if he was going to shoot at her. “Alright.” He finally relented; Lucy breathed a small sigh of relief. He leaned down to the ground, putting his weapon on the pavement of the sidewalk.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, I want you to put your hands up, behind your head and interlock your fingers. She explained before moving in carefully, gun still trained on him. As she moved closer, she kicked away his gun. She exhaled deeply. “Okay, great. Good job.” She pulled her cuffs from her jeans, placing them on each wrist as he tried to beg his wife not to leave him. Lucy had to admit, she felt something for the guy; he’d clearly been through a lot, but by the look of things he’d taken things too far and for that, this was clearly a rightful arrest.</p><p> </p><p>She picked up her phone, dialling dispatch. “Hi, this is Off-Duty Officer Lucy Chen, badge number 28537, I’ve got one in custody, could do with some back up here at 7371 West Street.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh hi Lucy.” The voice on the other end warmly welcomed; it was Nell. “Hope you’re doing well, sending backup to your location now. It sure is good to hear your voice again. Want me to stay on the line?”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy smiled; it was good hearing Nell’s voice. “I’m all good, thanks.”  </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hey, heard about the OT arrest today. Good job. Stopping off at the bar by the precinct, feel free to drop by? J  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lucy had no idea just how a single text could make her spiral. It was an innocent enough suggestion and Lucy knew what Jackson had meant by it, he’d probably had either a decent or a terrible day at work and felt like celebrating or consoling himself with Nolan at some cheesy bar near to work that played old music and had a karaoke machine. Come to think of it, Lucy was pretty convinced she’d arrested someone on a drugs offence there at some point; but that was just like most bars in LA.</p><p><br/>
She’d tidied the apartment from top to bottom, rearranged her bookcase according to colour then again alphabetised it. She’d cleaned and tidied all day long to avoid any thoughts about her job, or the kidnapping. Everything felt like it was right at the front of her memory and it was almost as if she opened her eyes she would be able to see the memories playing out in front of her. She hated to admit just how much she’d enjoyed the arrest, for all the fear and the adrenaline it had just felt right and like home, yet here she was, miles away from doing her job.</p><p> </p><p>Lucy had prepared some sort of dinner, or at least tried to. Her plan had been to maybe share tacos with Jackson once he got home from work, they could watch some TV and she could live zealously through his experiences as he’d tell her all about his day at work. But then he hadn’t shown, instead he’d hit up some bar on the way home from work and at first she felt at annoyance that he hadn’t come home for dinner, then a jealousy that he was out there are the bar without her and even though the offer stood, she sure as hell had no intentions of taking herself to some crawling bar while off-duty, she’d been burned once with Caleb as it stood and she had no intention of risking it for a second time.</p><p> </p><p>At first she’d tried to settle in front of the TV with a taco on her own, but with a bubbling anxiety at the pit of her belly, she’d spent time instead picking at the food on the plate in her lap and idly glancing at the TV in between thoughts. She scrunched her eyes, with a jump and the plate began slipping from her lap, landing and shattering on the floor with a crash as it splintered around her on the hardwood floor. Lucy was trapped in a dazed moment, a memory crashing over her like the waves of the ocean on the banks of the sandy beaches of LA, it was suffocating and dragged her into its depth with a gasp. A ghostlike grasp was at her wrist then at her ankle and it was like she was being dragged over the dirt outside the shack she’d been held in again, her hand gripped the couch as if she was trying to hold herself back from being torn away.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn it.” She called out aloud to no one in particular, pulling herself together and shaking the memory from her head. She sunk to her knees in front of the couch, trying her best to collect the pieces of the plate, putting the food onto the broken shards. “Ouch!” She cried out, reflexively dropping the pieces back to the ground, forcing her to start over again with a furrowed brow as she withdrew her hand, she’d nicked her palm and now on top of the original mess she had started with there was a tiny puddle of blood as she got to her knees, then got up.</p><p> </p><p>There was a hearty sob concealed in her chest, just trying to push its way out as today just kept being test after test of her fraying patience. She was irritable and frustrated and would give anything to be able to lash out at Caleb, she felt a sickening bile rising as she wished Caleb would at least have to suffer a lifetime of absolute boredom, locked far away in a prison cell. It felt like she had been short-changed for his punishment to be so short-lived.</p><p> </p><p>She got up, walking to the kitchen sink, rinsing her hand and wrapping a hand towel around it. She pulled her mobile from her pocket, running through the phone numbers. The last thing she wanted was to be psychoanalysed by her parents, Jackson was at the bar and she didn’t want to interrupt him as he already had plans and it’d taken her long enough to convince him she was fine for him to give her some breathing room, only to take back on it sure enough the moment she was finally alone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dialling Ofcr Bradford.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>She was taken by surprise, after only two metallic rings he picked up, he’d caught her off guard and she hadn’t even thought of what to say yet.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, you okay?” She heard she voice, exhaling deeply and he could hear the relief. His breathing hitched. She didn’t sound fine. “Lucy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, hey. I, uh, made tacos then didn’t really feel like eating tacos and—I don’t really have a plan for what to do now. Do you maybe want to grab something to eat?” She asked, quickly beginning to explain herself. “Jackson’s out, I really don’t feel like eating alone and—” There was something in her tone that wasn’t right, that wasn’t ordinary Lucy Chen and it he could feel it in his gut. Even as she stumbled over her words, asking something completely ordinary he could feel she was holding something back.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure thing Boot, still fancying the whole Mexican food thing or we could get pizza?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm, pizza sounds great actually.” She decided.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to eat out or do you want me to bring it over?” He asked without hesitation. She hesitated for a moment. <em>That was really sweet</em>. It wasn’t something she’d thought about. All she wanted was to not be alone right now and to not have to deal with all the things she was thinking about, for someone to take her away from it even if it was only for an hour or two. She didn’t really know what exactly she’d expected when she’d dialled his number; a reassuring voice maybe to bring her down from a panic attack, but just like his promise he had her back. He would cover her in the field and at home.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, in is good. I’d prefer in.” It was safer. There were less creeps and freaks around here. She felt a knot in her belly as again her mind cast back to her legs giving way outside the bar, the crushing realisation that she’d been drugged and there was nothing she could do to stop him from whatever he was going to do with her. The feeling of shame and stupidity; damn it, she was a cop and she should’ve known better. She should’ve seen him coming from a mile away. She’d missed all the warning signs and—Tim was speaking, she realised as she zoned back in. She’d missed what he’d said while she’d been lost in her thoughts. A heated blush rose to her cheeks, she expected him to chastise her for not paying attention. “—Sorry. What did you say?”</p><p> </p><p>He swallowed thickly, she sounded normal but he was already reading between the lines and something wasn’t right. She was disconnected and lost in her thoughts and he could imagine exactly what she was thinking about and it made his stomach churn. “I’m on my way, hang tight okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Lucy had settled herself against the kitchen island, propping herself against it with the towel still wrapped around her bloodied hand. She’d made a concerted effort to stand and make her way over to the tap to rinse her hand and then maybe evaluate whatever damage there was, but instead she’d found herself leaning against the countertop mesmerised by her blood as she held her forearm out. Something instinctively inside her told her to raise her arm, then something else about applying pressure, but everything felt like a complete blur and before she knew it, she heard the strong rapping of her door.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, it’s me.” Bradford called ahead, announcing his arrival. What if she’d thought the sound was an intruder or something? He didn’t want to add to her fear. He heard a scuffle, then a thudding noise from beyond the door.</p><p> </p><p>Lucy cursed to herself, pulling the towel free of her hand to quickly observe her injuries, then with a bitter mutter soon enough wrapped it back up, tighter than before. Her house was a mess, it wasn’t the kind of place she wanted to bring her training officer, there were shards of the plate on the ground, the remnants of the food mixing in and her hand was a mess.</p><p> </p><p>Everything about herself felt imperfect or lacking, she felt like there was some kind of numb void swallowing her whole and there was nothing she could do to prise herself from its grasp. It felt like with every blink of her eyes, there was another frame of her horror playing out again in front of her, just constantly running at the back of her mind like some old movie. She felt like she existed in two streams of consciousness; one here and now with Tim Bradford waiting at her door and a second one when she closed her eyes or had the audacity to not off where the events would replay again and again in her mind, with her forced to referee and find fault with each and every step she’d taken.</p><p> </p><p>“Luce?” He called through the door, not knocking this time. She shook her head, snapping out of the moment.</p><p> </p><p>She blinked and there was a searing pain at her ribs as he tattooed her skin. Another blink and she was screaming for help, tied to a table. Another blink more and she was on her front, the palms of her hands scraping against earth to pull herself just an inch further from him—just to fight for a little longer. Whatever her friends needed to find her. Maybe they’d never find her. Maybe she’d just be another missing person, another body found in the outback 40 years from now.</p><p> </p><p>Her hand rested on the latch of her door as she pulled it open. Tim stood in her doorway, his brow marred with concern and worry for his trainee. He examined her expression, it was if she’d barely clocked that he was stood there, instead she was staring over his shoulder; assessing for any other danger. She’d played these kinds of games before, hiding a relationship with Nolan from her fellow officers, but this time it was different because as she allowed her TO into her apartment, she was checking that there was no-one following him; that behind him there was no one else that could hurt her.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. What’s going on? Your hand is hurt.” He explained calmly, careful not to respond abruptly. She was clearly still in some sort of dissociative state and maybe things were just all too soon. He shouldn’t have left her. Jackson shouldn’t have left her. She needed the company right now, the silence clearly didn’t agree with her. </p><p> </p><p>“I was trying to clean up. Didn’t work out.” She explained, a hint of her frustration in her tone. He’d hardly ever seen her so reserved and resigned to her circumstances. He followed her into her apartment, closing the door behind himself with the two locking mechanisms. He was quick enough to cast the pizza aside on the arm of her couch.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I take a look?” He asked, tilting his head slightly, reaching out for her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, here.” She offered him her palm; she’d removed the bandages from her wrists and he saw now the purplish green bruising that trailed along the edges of the wounds where her wrists had been tied and it stung him, a less experienced cop would’ve recoiled at the sight. She was wearing her pyjamas, with short sleeves and even then she still didn’t look comfortable or as if she had any kind of peace. Her pyjamas were just a little too short for her legs, or maybe that was the fashion, he didn’t know, but as he cast a cursory glance at her limbs he saw similar markings at her ankles too. His nostrils flared slightly.</p><p> </p><p>Tim peeled the towel away from her hand where she’d tightly wrapped it around her palm, stemming the bleeding of her wound. His hand took hers, turning her hand slightly into the light so he could see. “Can I clean it up? Check it properly?” He asked, explaining his actions.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” She replied, breathily. It sounded like she’d rolled her eyes, but that time he hadn’t noticed with his eyes trained on the wound. He walked with her over to the kitchen sink, turning the tap on and carefully rinsing the blood away under her tap. His hand gently rotated hers under the tap.</p><p> </p><p>“You got any spirit?” He asked, the pad of a calloused finger prodding at her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Tequila, top cupboard on the left.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tequila? Seriously?” He feigned some kind of horror and it earned a smile. This was good; he heard the smallest bit of a chuckle under her breath. He could work with that.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with tequila, it’s a great drink.” She defended.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, if you like drinking paint stripper.” He retorted. He saw the edges of her mouth upturn. He reached into the cupboard, grabbing the bottle; it had a cheesy little sombrero on top in a mustard yellow colour. “Damn, this stuff looks pretty fancy. Sure you don’t mind me using it to clean a wound?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm, no. Go for it.” She affirmed with a nod.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you know the drill. Sharp scratch and all that.” He explained, pivoting her hand over the sink again and pouring the alcohol over the open wound. He reflexively tensed as she hissed in pain, muttering some sort of apology. “This stuff is barely strong enough to touch a fly, it can’t be that bad.” He teased as he caught her glance lost over his shoulder somewhere. She’d lost herself in her thoughts again, even despite the pain of the neat alcohol biting into her open wound as he cleansed it, then examined it again. “Messy, but pretty superficial. You got lucky, injuries to your gun hand can be a real bitch to fix up.” His teeth bit at his cheek slightly, his jaw clenching.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, it just got caught when I was picking some stuff up. Pretty dumb in hindsight.” She looked over to the pile of broken plate on the floor. His eyes followed hers.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, pretty dumb mistake.” He replied, nodding at his assessment. “It’s all sorted, don’t worry about it. Just be more careful next time.” He warned, then hesitated, realising his words. He hadn’t realised how up until now he’d been skating on thin ice and avoiding any words that could tip her over the edge, he shrunk into himself slightly, apologetically as he realised his mistake. “I didn’t mean like that—I just meant that…” He trailed off as she interrupted him.</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you mean.” He broke away, kneeling to pick the broken pottery from the floor, finally standing to empty it into the bin while Lucy rifled through a first aid kit for some sort of bandage to wrap her hand up with. “You never expect it to happen to you.” She explained as she wound the crepe around her palm. “Especially as a cop; you just think you’re invincible. That law-breaking doesn’t happen around you or when it does, you know how to break it up and toss the bad guy into a cell for the night.”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like there’s a but to this.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were right. My instincts are off, just not enough time on the job.” She justified.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, look, none of this is your fault. You’re not to blame; this isn’t about your judgement or what you did; the only person responsible is Caleb. You can’t hold a grudge against yourself because it’ll eat you alive, Lucy.” He warned.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes locked on his as she finished winding the bandage around her hand. With their gaze equally fixed, her newly bandaged hand found its way to his neck, placing itself at the nape of its neck as she stood on the balls of her feet. His hand moved down her back, trailing along her spine as he moved, finally resting at the small of her back. He stooped over as his lips captured hers, taking her in.</p><p> </p><p>His free hand roamed at her outline, running along her frame and feeling at her torso, up to her shoulders and neck before finally resting at her cheek. His hand held her face as his mouth pressed further into hers, deepening the kiss. Even with him stooped over her and her on her tiptoes, the distance between them remained. Her hand brushed through the edges of his hair, twisting her grasp into his locks. Her hand then moved to his collar, reaching for the first button, but he pulled away from her.</p><p> </p><p>“Not like this. Not tonight.” She pulled away, like she’d been scorched. His hand moved to her cheek again, trailing the line of her cheek with his thumb. “Not while you’re hurting, I know I can be a pretty fair distraction but I won’t let you walk headfirst into a mistake because you’re still in a state of shock.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if I want this? It wouldn’t be a mistake to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would love that. But not like this Lucy, not while you’re hurt and afraid. I wouldn’t be a very good TO if I took advantage of you.” He pulled her in closer, wrapping his arms around her, enveloping her entirely as she pressed herself further into his embrace, placing her head against his torso, just letting him hold her for a while. “Things won’t hurt so bad like this forever and this is the first day of forever, we have all the time in the world.”</p><p> </p><p>“I really hope you’re right.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shhh we’re ignoring canon. They can have their smooch time. May do a chapter 3 or a one shot of ‘~later~’ at some point. But for now, fingers and toes crossed for renewal and an S3!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hiya! Thanks for taking the time to read. This is chapter 1/2! I'm kinda late getting into The Rookie, I was super into The Good Doctor, but my ship sank so I'm hoping for really great things for Chenford and if not I'll write them myself because I just love their relationship/ bromance (however you want to see it) dynamic. I can't wait to do more writing about The Rookie and hopefully someone might even enjoy reading them! Fingers crossed for a S3 and the season finale tomorrow night! Have a great day and see you soon &lt;3 (Ps. I love checking the Ao3 The Rookie tag like multiple times a day, I love reading the fics so I just had to get involved myself!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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